


Untitled corset porn

by Hope



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Crossdressing, Ficlet, M/M, PWP, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-21
Updated: 2009-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled corset porn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amand_r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amand_r/gifts).



> Spawned by a a conversation with amand_r, her counterpart fic to this one is here: [Sweet Transvestite](http://amand-r.livejournal.com/351336.html). This ficlet was [originally posted in her comments](http://amand-r.livejournal.com/349972.html?thread=3349780#t3349780).

It's surprisingly easy to roll Ianto into the corset the next morning, especially while Ianto's pretending to be more asleep than he is. It's supposed to fasten at the back but it was made for men, so no great harm done by fastening it at the front instead, and this way Jack gets to see the flush creep out from under the black satin edge and up Ianto's chest. Ianto's heaving by the time Jack's finished hauling the laces tight, struggling to take breaths deep enough to get the oxygen his body's craving.

Jack sits back on his haunches, admiring Ianto's bound body with hands, trailing fingertips down the shape of his waist, carved by the whalebone, and his eyes. The displacement of Ianto's very masculine body in the corset is not as mismatched as perhaps it ought to be; the line of the stays not unlike the contour of pinstripe, tightly-bound taper of his torso almost as constricted as it is with a waistcoat.

And anachronism has always suited Ianto.

He watches Jack from below lowered lashes, a gaze that becomes more coquettish once Jack's stroked the smoky brush of powder over the delicate eyelids. His body trembles beneath Jack's as Jack glosses his lips, mouth open and pliant as Jack paints it a deep, translucent cherry. The gloss sticks together the coarse hair around Ianto's nipples when Jack twirls the brush over them, hardening where they're half-trapped under the top of the corset; Ianto's breath quickens.

He gives a moan that sounds almost painful when Jack paints the gloss over the tip of his cock as well, but Jack holds his hips down, admiring the way the colours blend prettily. The whole picture's pretty, really—he can understand why Ianto couldn't keep his hands off Jack's arse last night when Jack was the one corseted, even while Ianto was fucking him. Jack splays his kneel, lifts Ianto's legs up onto his thighs and spreading him open. It would be _so_ pretty to use the lip gloss as lube as well, but it's far too sticky; still, Jack dips the closed tube into his mouth for a moment before sliding it into Ianto's arse. It's pretty enough to watch Ianto grind his head into the pillow as Jack questingly fucks him with it, struggling to breathe.


End file.
